


Along For The Ride

by gay_rights



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, apparently i used my ocs name at one point but shh its all fixed now dw about it, im suffering camp nano burnout dont judge, sorcos fluff, they spend a day at the fair, they're about to start college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 06:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20286646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_rights/pseuds/gay_rights
Summary: Soren and Marcos are going to separate colleges soon, and they want to spend one last day together.





	Along For The Ride

**Author's Note:**

> whoop im aden and this is my first and tbh one of the few posts on here. hope you enjoy

The worst things about getting older is that holidays and breaks and vacations somehow whittle away to nothing. One minute, it’s a cold day in October and you’re cramming for an exam on Halloween, then suddenly you’re crossing the stage in June, graduating, and even sooner, it’s a bone-dry day in August, and you’re trying to make the last two weeks of summer stretch into something that should have been months of memories. 

Marcos is kicking himself for letting time slip through his fingers like this. It feels like yesterday he was starting high school— how is it already _over?_ On one hand, he is excited to be starting this new part of his life, but at the same time, he knows he’s going to regret not taking advantage of the time he has left with Soren. They’ll go their separate ways in college, grow apart until they forget each other, and it fills Marcos with dread. Not being friends with Soren anymore is one of the worst things in Marcos’ mind.

Someone grabs Marcos from behind, picking them off their feet and swinging them around while simultaneously holding a cardboard boat of fried deliciousness. “Funnel cake?”

Marcos wriggles out of Soren’s grip while stealing the food from him and ripping off a piece of cinnamon covered fried dough. “We’ve been here for five minutes and you’ve already succumbed?”

“The true experience is eating as much fried food as possible before you go on the spin-y rides, duh.”

Marcos wrinkles his nose. “How could that possibly be fun?”

“You’ll find out,” Soren promises and he tries to snatch his food back from Marcos.

Marcos looks at the piece of fried dough in his hand and then at the rides that spiral and twist and through your stomach for loops. “On second thought, you can have all of this,” Marcos says, handing back the funnel cake, “and if you’re really trying to have your _true experience_, you can sit on the rides alone.”

“Aw, come on. I though we were here to have fun and ‘celebrate our friendship,’” Soren mocks. 

Marcos’ cheeks go red. He shouldn’t have sent that text, and he’s not sure why he wrote it in the first place; they just know that it finally convinced Soren to go out and do something fun. Not that Soren ever needs encouragement, being an adrenaline junkie, but they always seem to come up with plans that the other inevitably backs out of. Marcos’ text succeeded in guilting Soren into following through.

“Yeah, the dwindling remains of our friendship, which you’re going to puke on.”

Soren pokes Marcos’ cheek. “Succumb, dwindling, you know we took the SATs already, right? A year ago?”

“Ah, yes, back when we were young and spry,” Marcos says dryly, and Soren laughs, throwing his arm around Marcos and steering him towards the cat and mouse ride. “Sure hope our old bodies can take these high velocities.”

“Oh, Coco. You’re not a physics major, either.” Soren measures Marcos against the _you must be this tall to ride_ figure, and Marcos scowls. It’s not like Soren’s any taller than him. “Lucky you, you’re tall enough!” Soren happily says. 

Marcos would leave him here. He really, really, would. Except they have two weeks before fall semester, and it’s a long haul until Thanksgiving break, and… who is he kidding? It’s _Soren_. Being around him is like being around the goddamn sun, and Marcos hates that he has this effect on him. 

“Also lucky for you, I have it all planned out— the perfect way to get the best rides with shorts lines, resulting in the maximum fun.”

Marcos smiles at his friend’s back as he climbs into the cart shaped like cheese. Soren is so hell-bent on rollercoasters, but Marcos couldn’t care less about the adrenaline rush; they just want to be with Soren. 

Marcos chews on his words as he sits next to his friend. He hates that he’s been silent about how he feels, but would he rather bit his tongue or run years of friendship? The answer seems obvious. 

He slouches in the seat as the metal bar is pressed over their laps, and the ride jerks forward, pulling them up to the top. The ride pitches forward, sending them down, and Soren laughs, throwing his arms up at the appropriate times. They whip around corners, and Soren’s shoulders slide into Marcos’s. Marcos can’t help but crack a smile eventually as Soren whoops again and throws up a peace sign for the camera. Soren is delighted when the ride is over, pulling Marcos to his feet. 

“And now the _real_ fun begins,” he says with a grin, and Marcos tags behind him in an effort to keep up. 

They wait at the little counter for the picture to come up, and Marcos laughs. “You tried so hard for a good picture,” he sympathizes. Soren laughs besides him, and recreates his image with another peace sign, his eyes closed, and a goofy smile on his lips. Marcos shoves his shoulders. “Dork.”

Undeterred, Soren grabs Marcos’ wrist and pulls him onward. “Whirlwind’s up next!”

What’s even worse about this one is that the force keeps pushing their bodies against each other, and Marcos is so painfully aware of every point of contact. A few years ago, this wouldn’t have bother him. They sat near each other often and never shied away from touching each other, but senior year really brought forward feelings that Marcos never really wanted to think about. 

His third year of high school. Marcos realized they had been crushing on Soren.

His fourth year of high school, Marcos hoped the feelings would go away.

Now, almost in fucking _college, _Marcos can’t help but crash harder into Soren. Literally. The clueless idiot is almost sitting in his lap.

The Whirlwind sends them sinning in another dizzying turn, flattening the two against each other, and Marcos doesn’t have time to think about his crush right now as his stomach turns on him. Maybe Soren was right, and he should have had more in his stomach. It’s a fine line between throwing up from too much and throwing up from too little.

It could also be the butterflies and the static feeling of being so close with Soren. Having a whole day where it’s just the two of them. God, if only….

The ride ends and Soren exits, breathless from yelling, hair tousled by the wind, and a smile tugs at Marcos’ lips. “What’s next?” he asks.

Soren beams. “Ring of Fire, bay-bee!”

This time, it’s Marcos dragging Soren to the ride, and Soren laughs behind him, no doubt knowing it’s one of Marcos’ favorite rides. Though Marcos is a little surprised that Soren even said this ride was next, considering he hates rollercoasters that go upside down. The two of them are opposites that way: if Marcos is going on a rollercoaster, he might as well go upside down, but Soren just likes to spin around and around until he goes green. 

And Marcos has no idea how Soren figured this out, but his schedule— though, in hindsight, maybe it’s just coincidence— is working because they walk right onto the coaster, claiming the first seat. Marcos almost asks if Soren truly did take time to plan out the whole day, but he’s white knuckling the seat harness, staring determinedly at the curving track, and Marcos decides to let him focus on the growing anxiety of the ride.

It starts to rock back and forth, slowly climbing higher, and in the corner of his eye, Marcos can see Soren’s face, full of regret, and a sound catches in his throat when they start circling upside down, around and around until the momentum starts to wear out. The ride comes to a pause at the top, suspending them upside, and to Marcos’ delight, he hears Soren whisper a swear. Marcos lets go of the bar, waving their hands just to taunt Soren, but it doesn’t work because his eyes are closed. 

“Lame,” Marcos calls instead, and Soren tilts his head at him. 

“I will aim for you when I puke,” he promises, and Marco’s response is cut short as the ride goes hurtling backwards again. 

They leave the Ring of Fire on somewhat steady feet— Soren is considerably less steady, but he doesn’t waste a second, ready for the next roller coaster. 

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

It’s all one adrenaline rush after the next, and it’s such a hot, dry day that by the time noon rolls around, they’re sticky with sweat, and somehow Soren convinces Marcos that they should go on the water rides.

“We’ll dry off quickly,” he promises, and Marcos can’t bring himself to say no which is how they end up absolutely soaking wet. 

With each step Marcos takes, his sneakers make a squelching sound, and his clothes are sticking to him uncomfortably. Soren doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it either, though, and when neither one of them can stand to take another step, they collapse on a bench. They lie like starfish, side by side, and Marcos yawns. He closes his eyes, taking a well needed break from the hectic day. He knows Soren has much more planned, but maybe Marcos can convince him to let them take a little power nap in the nice warm sun. 

A shadow cross over Marcos’ face, and there’s a little _click_ of a camera shutter. Marcos pops open an eye to see Soren’s phone over his face, and he throws a hand in Soren’s general vicinity, whacking his chest. Soren lets out a winded _oof_ but doesn’t let it stop him from sending the Snapchat, and he turns on his side, holding his phone up again. “Smile.”

Marcos sticks his tongue out while Soren grins, taking the picture. He lies back down and holds the phone up with both of their faces in view, and takes a slew of selfies. At some point, Marcos grabs something for them to eat, but that doesn’t slow down Soren’s photography, and somehow they end up upside-downon the bench with honey mustard on their faces. 

In return, they get silly pictures of Claudia, Callum, Rayla, and Ezran backs dn at some point, Crow and Corvus also respond, and it fuels Soren’s need to up the stakes. Make them look even more ridiculous. 

So then, two eighteen year olds are crammed into a little choo-choo train rollercoaster, and the employee watches them skeptically, but decides they’re not paid enough to care about this. The two of them laugh themselves hoarse as they go over little speed bump hills, and throw their arms up ecstatically like it’s one of the twenty foot drops on the other rides.

“Soren, that was too much,” Marcos says dramatically, grabbing at their friend’s arm. “I need a break.”

Soren laughs. “Too many loops, I’m dizzy,” he pretends, swaying on this feet as they pass the booths of side games. “Ooh, ring toss?”

“They’re rigged,” Marcos says, wrinkling his nose, but Soren shushes him. 

“I’m going to win you a goldfish,” he decides. 

Marcos snorts and folds his arms as Soren pays the person in the booth. He gives it an honest shot and almost makes it, but the rings bounce off the begs. Marcos is about to say something about Soren’s defeat, but Soren holds up a finger, undeterred. “I’m going fishing.”

“For my goldfish?”

“No, Marcos, for your goddamn piranha.”

“Stop wasting your money,” he sighs, but Soren’s already given up a few more dollars and holds the plastic rod over the fake fish. It’s not a surprise when he loses that, too, and progresses to darts and then basketball. 

“Soren. Dude.”

“I’m… going… to… _win!”_ He throws another ring because yeah, they’ve come full circle on all the games, and Marcos has lost track of how much Soren’s spent. At some point— well, technically from the beginning— it’s clear that no matter how good Soren’s hand-eye coordination is, today is not his day, and Marcos will not be leaving with a goldfish. But that’s probably a good thing, considering he’s moving into a dorm in two weeks. Finally, Marcos takes it upon himself to save Soren’s wallet, and he hauls the blond boy away from the booths, not the hang-glider ride. 

Thus, the second round of adrenaline begins.

They run all over the park, finishing Soren’s agenda, starting it over and going again, until their feet are sore. They take a quick stop for cotton candy, and it fuels them enough to hit up all the rides on their way back as they make their way to the exit. 

The sun has long since set, leaving the park an array of electric colors. Soren throws his arm around Marcos. He happily chats away about how they’ve had _such_ a good day, and he wishes they had more time before school starts, but today makes up for most of it, and Marcos is getting more and more frustrated. 

He knows it’s unfair, and he knows that Soren is just clueless about things sometimes, but today wasn’t really them hanging. It was riding whatever Soren wanted to ride, and Marcos being so helplessly desperate to be with Soren that they went along with it.

Marcos glances around the park one last time and something catches his eye. Twenty feet from the exit, Marcos digs his feet into the grass path that’s so worn out it’s mostly just dirt. 

“What?” Soren asks.

“We missed a ride.” Marcos isn’t sure how it didn’t occur to him sooner— it’s hard to forget.

Soren fumbles with words for a minute, sucking in a breath. “We did? Did we? I don’t think we did. No, we didn’t—”

Marcos frees himself from Soren’s arm. “You purposely left it out,” he accuses.

Soren hems and haws, and Marcos finally grabs Soren’s wrist, pulling him back to the crowd of people.

“You said we were doing all the rides,” Marcos says.

“I said we were doing the _best_ rides.”

“How is this not the best?” Marcos stops at the base of it, and has to tilt his head to look over the two hundred feet of metal. The decorative lights form an arrow and give the illusion of it going up the center support beam and out the spokes. “You can see everything from the top.”

“It’s boring,” Soren whines, and Marcos rolls his eyes, forcing them into line. 

Soren continues to gripe as they wait, but when it’s their turn, he climbs into the carriage nonetheless. The carriage is an open cart with smooth, white benches around the inside. Crossing his arms, he sits across from Marcos, and the ferris wheel moves to the next position for other people to get in. 

It slowly creeps up to the top, and Marcos turns to look out at the view. The air is filled with bright lights on all the rides, the sweet smell of powdered sugar, the rolling and clicking of roller coasters, and screaming visitors. 

Soren slouches. “Yay. How fun.”

Marcos rolls his eyes and continues looking out at the fair grounds, but there’s this feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’s just annoying Soren, and Marcos shouldn’t have forced him to come on here. He twists back to face his friend, and his movement makes the carriage rock, giving Marcos an idea.

It’s no secret that Soren’s an adrenaline junkie. And maybe you’re not supposed to move the carriage, but a little rocking isn’t going to hurt— it’ll just entertain Soren a little more.

Marcos moves slightly to continue rocking the seat, and Soren looks up from his pout.“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Making it fun.”

“You’re not supposed to do that.”

“But you said this was boring.”

The wheel moves to the next spot and the seat sways more. “I didn’t mean kill us.”

Marcos clucks his tongue, “This isn’t going to _kill_ us.”

They move closer to the top, passing several stops until they’re at the very top where they can see the entirety of the fair grounds and the rest of the town. Marcos keeps rocking the carriage— still not hard enough for it to actually be dangerous, but enough that it’s making his heart beat faster.

“Marcos, _stop.”_

Soren clutches the railing, and Marcos realizes they made a very bad mistake.

“You don’t hate ferris wheels because they’re boring, do you?”

Soren has his eyes closed, shoulders tight with tension. “Hm?”

“You’re scared of heights.” Marcos searches his memories for any time Soren might have mentioned it, but he comes up blank.

“I’m not scared,” Soren argues.

“Oh, my bad. You’re terrified.”

Soren opens his eyes to glare at Marcos. “Fuck off.”

“Come on, it’s cool! You can see all the lights from the town.” He sighs softly. “Aren’t you gonna miss it? I mean, after all the years we spent here, growing up, and we’re just gonna leave it behind?”

“Miss it?” Soren scoffs, “No. When can I _leave_ this town?”

Marcos frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just… stuff with Dad. The usual.” Soren shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

The fast-paced rush of the night has lost its spark, and the high has worn off as Marcos thinks about the new part of their lives they’re about to start. The ferris wheel moves again, the carriage swings, and the blood drains from Soren’s face. Marcos feels guilty now for putting Soren in this position and ruining the night, so he scoots over.

He knows it’s selfish of him to use this as an opportunity to get closer to Soren, but it’s not like they haven’t been close like this before. It just never continues in the way Marcos wants it to, and he knows Soren would find it comforting to be close until the ride is over.

But Marcos isn’t the one who reaches for Soren’s hand.

As soon as Marcos is close enough for his knees to accidentally knock into Soren’s, Soren grabs for Marcos’ hand and holds it tightly. The air is knocking from Marcos’ lungs, but he tells himself it’s just Soren being scared of heights. He doesn’t mean it like _that._

Marcos clears his throat.“You better not be a stranger next year,” he says after a minute of silence, and at the same time, Soren says, “Can you believe we graduated?”

Marcos gives a small laugh and shakes his head. “No, not really.”

Soren doesn’t pay much attention to his answer, though, brow furrowed and thinking of something else. “A lot of people say they have regrets with how they spent high school,” he says.

“Do you?” Marcos asks, and Soren stares at his lap. 

“Maybe,” he admits. 

Marcos waits for him to continue, but Soren seems to have lost his nerve. Marcos can’t tell if that’s because the ferris wheel has picked up a little speed as it continues to spin or if it’s something different. “Hello?”

The cart stops at the top again, and for the first time, Soren stares out at the glow of the town before turning back to Marcos. They’re so close right now, it makes Marcos’ chest tighten. “What do you regret?” Marcos asks gently.

And then Soren’s lips are on his, tasting like cotton candy.

It takes a second for Marcos’ mind to catch up, kiss back, and another second for them to realize they’re almost to the Botton where everyone can see them. Kissing. 

Holy shit. He’s kissing Soren.

It takes all of Marcos’ will power to pull away. They don’t want to, but they should, and they have to get off the ride anyway. It’s dark, but Marcos can see the flush of Soren’s cheeks as he looks away and scrambles out of the cart with Marcos behind him.

“Finally, land,” he says with a weak laugh, and scratches his arm nervously. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Marcos, I know you don’t feel the same way, and I don’t know why I did that, but I don’t want this to ruin—”

“Soren.”

He stops talking and stares at Marcos, a mixture of panic and disappointment. 

“Soren,” Marcos repeats, and they shake their head with a laugh. “Why do you think I spent all fucking day with you? Because I wanted to watch you spend your paycheck on rigged games?”

“Because we’re… friends,” Soren says painstakingly. 

“No, I wanted a goldfish.”

Soren takes a step back and makes a sound that’s caught between a laugh and a disappointed sigh. 

Marcos sighs. “Soren—”

“Stop saying my name,” he whines, “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I was joking,” Marcos says with a laugh. “I don’t care about rollercoasters or fried dough or goldfish. I wanted to spend a day with you.”

“But… like…” Soren stammers and Marcos rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a jock sometimes, it hurts.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Nothing gets through that skull of yours.”

“You mean my handsome set of looks.”

“Yeah,” Marcos echoes, “Handsome.”

And this time Marcos beats him to the hand holding and the kissing, and it doesn’t matter that there’s only two weeks of summer left. Maybe they won’t be in the same little town together, and they won’t be sharing inside jokes about teachers anymore, or carpooling to school, or sparring at practice, but that doesn’t erase the parts they’ve played in each other’s lives until now.

And just because they won’t be seeing each other doesn’t mean they can’t call each other every day, and send letters and packages, and take day trips to visit each other at school. And it doesn’t mean they can’t continue playing a part in each other’s lives. 


End file.
